Hope oft is born
by Meddwl
Summary: Gandalf mentions that he visited Dol Guldur during his conversation with the dwarves and Bilbo. It is later told that it was thus it he discovered that Sauron had indeed taken the tower, but what first led him to enter Dol Guldur?
1. Chapter 1 - Ill-met in the Greenwood

Disclaimer: I am not a professor or a philogist or a member of the Inklings. Alas, I have never been to England nor was I born in South Africa. So apart from a love of beauty and an admiration for Old English and medieval stories I have nothing in common with the writer of The Lord of the Rings. Ergo, any recognizable characters are his not mine. I but vainly hope to add a few threads in the great tapestry of Middle Earth.

Warnings: There are some moderately graphic images of death and torture in the later chapters but nothing inordinately twisted or dark. That being said on to the story, which begins in the year 2849 of the Third Age.

Chapter 1 – Ill-met in the Greenwood

The long path that twisted through the wood once known as Greenwood the Great lay shadowed as morning mist rose slowly from the forest floor. The trees sighed gently as a chill wind from the south shook their branches. The mist began to retreat swiftly as the sun pierced the grey shadows and lit the path with a golden greenness. A clear elven voice raised in song broke the silence. The darkness and shadows fled as a merry party of elves turned onto the path. The elves were clad in silver-green and brown and their dark hair was held back by intricate braids after the fashion of the wood elves. As they entered a small clearing their leader called a halt. His hair was long and as golden as the others' were dark. His keen eyes, grey with a hint of green glanced swiftly around seeking out any hint of movement.

To the left of the path a small noise, inaudible to a man and faint even to the ears of an elf drew his attention. He stepped forward, an arrow drawn and fitted to his bowstring with a speed too swift for mortal eyes to follow. His companions, arrows on their strings drew around him as if to shield him from any threat. His fair face fell as he waved the others back.

"Peace friends" he admonished them, "Remain here until I return" With these words he passed into the forest leaving his companions on the trail.

"Is the Prince always quick to court danger leaving his guard behind in safety?" asked one of the younger elves of an older warrior. The second elf laughed "Have you heard naught of the stories told about the Prince?" he returned "How if there is danger or suffering our lord is the first to find it!"

"Shame Elloth" called another elf "Prince Legolas finds trouble enough but only in the service of others, ever he takes their pain and seeks to lighten their burdens. He is no trouble seeker who brings pain upon others through recklessness or carelessness." Elloth laughed and shook his head "Nay, Elgalen" he returned "I meant no offence to the prince for he is wise in council and a stern warrior at need , but I have followed him long enough to know how keenly he feels the pain of others and how careful he is to protect others at his own risk. He is a good prince and a great leader and honored are those who serve under him!" The other elves nodded their agreement.

"Yet, though he has fought much that is evil in the world and suffered for it, still he is gentle in spirit, slow to anger and quick to forgive those who would harm him." Elgalen smiled "He is my prince and for that I would die to save him but even more would I give for his own sake…."

A soft rustle of leaves stopped Elgalen's enthusiastic speech for his captain and friend as the prince dropped lightly to the ground at the far end of the glade.

"Quickly" he said "There are three wounded men in a clearing near here. Elgalen and Elloth come with me to bring them back. Celdor, Lasgiloth and Ernildar prepare what healing supplies we have with us. Gameldan set guards around the clearing and send out scouts to seek traces of the attackers." The prince's tone left no room for doubt or hesitation and as swiftly as he had come he had turned back into the forest followed by Elgalen and Elloth. Celdor shook his head as he un-wrapped the few healing supplies the party had brought with them.

"He is so quick to help men" he grumbled "Why? It is not as though they have ever given him cause to trust him." He glowered at the other elves "Elgalen is right, he is quick to forgive those who harm him, far too quick to forgive. Remember that incident a short while back in Esgaroth?" His face grew grimmer.

"What happened in Laketown?" asked the young elf who had spoken earlier "I remember that the Prince went halt of foot for at least two weeks afterwards, but few knew what had happened and none seemed anxious to tell of it."

"That would the prince's doing" said Celdor "Swift is he to praise others and slow to let others know of his deeds. But I was there with him. A group outlaws had attacked a house that we were passing and prince of course decided to lend his aid. He ordered Elgalen to find the rest of our escort and then drew attention away from the intended victims by fighting them himself. Long he fought them drawing them further from the house and I gave him what aid I could. But I was sore pressed with those who surrounded me and I was overpowered and stunned." Elgalen shook his head sadly and his voice was soft and earnest. "He gave himself up to prevent them from killing me. I was of little use that day, they were wroth that he had withstood them and afraid of us for being elves since they were not of Laketown. When they would have hurt me, the prince shielded me and took the blows that were meant for me as well as those for him. Before Elgalen brought reinforcements and put them to flight they had broken his leg. Those that were captured he granted clemency and stayed their execution turning them over to town officials for trial, as I said he is too quick to forgive and to trust."

Celdor finished his story and his preparations as the three elves returned with their burdens. The men were quickly made comfortable and their hurts tended to by the prince himself. Three of the scouts had returned with news that there were tracks of many men leading towards the south. The other elves were relived at the news that nothing had been found near them and quietly broke their fast.

Prince Legolas, however, seemed tense and worried his keener senses detecting some hint of malice that the warriors he was training failed to detect. The sense of evil grew more instant as the minutes passed. The prince feared that the other two scouts had been detained by some evil happening when a shout from the guard at the far end caught his attention. A group of men in dark brown, hooded with their faces shadowed stood surrounding the two missing scouts, while the elven archers held arrows to their taut bowstrings.

Before he could say anything there was an outcry behind him as the three men they had tended stood and drew daggers from their boots, holding them to the throats of those who had been tending them. Elgalen, Lasgiloth and Ernildar stiffened slightly as the cold steel touched their throats but there was no fear in their eyes, only anger at the betrayal of their trust and the ingratitude of those they had cared for.

The leader of the brown-clad men stepped forward towards the motionless prince.

"Legolas" he called as he bowed in mock curtesy "It is good to see you again"

"The same cannot be said for you, Nareth" returned the prince sternly "release my followers, your quarrel is not with them.

"You are correct as always" Nareth sneered "It is with you, Prince of Mirkwood"

"What is it that you want from me?" asked the prince covering his surprise that the other knew his title.

"You, you highness" the mocking note in Nareth's voice heightened as he stepped closer to Legolas.

"If I give myself up, you will let my companions go" demanded the prince holding the other in his gaze.

"I will let your companions return if they do not attack us; as a matter of fact I would that they bore the elven wretch you call king a message!" Legolas' eyes narrowed at the disrespect shown his father and king and the other turned his eyes away from the wrath in them.

"Very well" he said softly, unbuckling the quiver from his back "Let the others go"

"Daro, Ernil Legolas, Daro! Man ceril? " came several voices from behind. (Stop, Prince Legolas, Stop! What are you doing?)

"Sidh, Do as I say, it is an order. Take the message to my father, and do not attempt to free me. I will have no lives lost needlessly on my account." commanded the prince as he handed Nareth his weapons. (Peace)


	2. Chapter 2 - Sundered Paths

Chapter 2 – Sundered Paths

The bandit stepped towards Legolas an evil smile upon his face and raised his hand to strike the prince. Behind them Celdor darted forward seizing the raised hand and pushed Nareth back earning himself a blow to the head. Celdor reeled and steadied himself to find five crossbows leveled at his head.

"You will pay for that fool of an elf" rasped the man striking him across the face.

"You will pay twenty times over for that." Celdor glared at him fearlessly and if looks could kill Nareth would have been dead long before the fall of Númenor.

_"Daro! Celdor mellon nin. Hannon le. Go back to your place."_ the prince's voice rang with authority and strength. "Nareth, you will take up any injury my followers do with me. I am their leader and responsible for their actions. Let them go!" Nareth stiffened at the commanding tone of that voice fair and clear as it was. He glared at Celdor for a moment and then an evil smile touched his lips as he turned from Celdor to Legolas.

"Very well your highness, your wish is my command" his smile broadened "But first that over-enthusiastic hero of yours will watch the consequences of his actions. As a prince you receive double the curtesy of your elves."

Legolas bowed his head silently, he could endure pain and did not fear death but it pained him to be used against his friend this way and to be whipped like a slave in front of his warriors was an affront to his pride and worse a scene that he did not wish these young untried warriors to see. And he did not wish anyone to see the still healing scars on his back from his last confrontation with the outlaw. Still it was far better than watching as his friend was beaten for defending him. He looked Nareth in the eyes and held them unwilling as his hands were wrenched behind his back and bound together. A soft cry of dismay from Celdor made him turn and he smiled gently at his friend willing him to not hold himself accountable for this. Then his legs were kicked from under him and he sank to his knees head held high.

Nareth turned his men and smiled again. As one of the bandits slit his tunic another of them handed Nareth Legolas's bow, he looked down at the golden-haired elf proud and strong even in chains and leaned forward and snapped it in front of his captive's face.

The bowstring released from the tension snapped forward leaving a bloody weal on the elf's face. Nareth laughed "Whipped by your own bowstring, you highness." The prince did not flinch at the sudden pain or the harsh words. He laughed even louder when he saw the scars on the prince's back. Legolas closed his eyes as he heard a sudden murmur of Sindarin from the elves.

Nareth's men shoved the prince around as their leader spun and using the broken half of the bow as a handle turned the bowstring on its former owner. The prince winced slightly as the bowstring opened a half-healed weal. Inwardly he gritted his teeth hoping that the mad bandit would stop at forty. Somehow he doubted it. A sudden unbidden image of his father's face when he stumbled home with more un-princely scars made him smile as the bowstring cut into his weakened back. The elves astonished smiled back half-heartedly unable to see the havoc the bowstring was wrecking on their smiling prince's back and with those timid smiles something in him hardened, however long Nareth chose to drag this out he would keep his head held high smiling for the sake of these young warriors. He had brought them to the forest to train them and by the grace of Elbereth he would even if not in the manner he had intended.

Nareth unsurprisingly and conveniently forget that he had set a limit on the beating. When his arm finally tired the prince was still holding himself straight and tall though with an effort. Nareth leaned over looking onto his eyes hoping to see fear and pain but to his disappointment he saw the opposite in those ageless depths. Weariness and sorrow he saw but more so determination and strength and worst of all pity. He scowled and looked away unable to bear that calm look that he so plainly read in his captive's face, his captive, who should have been cringing in pain and fear, worried about what his captor would do to him. He scowled more furiously, angry with himself for the fear he felt towards this elf, angry with the elf for his fearlessness, angry with the world and his men but especially with the elves and their prince.

In that moment he determined to see this elf fall, he wanted to see that calm strength wiped away and in its place see fear and the pain that he must be feeling. He turned back to the elf and smote him savagely across the face. The elf's head snapped to the side his hair whipping with the force of the blow but there was no sign of fear as he raised his bruised and bloodied face and looked his tormentor in the eye. He turned to the other elves and smiled as he saw the pained looks on their faces at this treatment of the prince they had sworn their lives to protect. He smiled more broadly and yanked one of the prince's braided locks of hair free of the rest. It was tangled and bloodied; he pulled it taut and severed it with his dagger. Turning he tossed to towards Celdor.

"Here take this token to your king, if he wishes to see his son again in this life he will meet my demands."

"What are your demands _adan_?" asked the prince his voice low and determined.

"You need not concern yourself with that, your highness" he snapped "my demands are for your father and not for your ears. Here get him on the horse." He said turning toward two of the bandits.

"Celdor, tell my father that I know he will do nothing that would endanger the realm or our people. Remind him that it is thus that I would have it and I count my life as little for the safety of my king and my people. _Gar-estel!_" Legolas's soft voice reached his friends as he was roughly dragged to one of the horse and his bound hands roped to its bridle. The elves stood silently watching as their prince vanished into the distance. Then they turned and hastened back to the path towards their king. _(Have hope!)_


	3. Chapter 3 - The Prince's Choice

Chapter 3 – The Prince's Choice

The group of bandits passed swiftly to the south-west through the forest well aware of the danger that they stood from both the evil that dwelt amid the dark trees and that which they had incurred by the abduction of the prince. The days passed slowly for Legolas. He was less than inclined to speak to his captors knowing well that his proud silence kept them uneasy, while the trees he loved and knew were being replaced by those corrupted by the evil that dwelt in Dul Guldor. He could feel the malice that the trees put out and the darkness that spread in almost tangible tendrils ensnaring the forest he loved in its wicked grip. His back was healing quickly and the bruises on his face would have faded if Nareth had not replaced them at the slightest opportunity, but he slept little, the evil of the land weighing heavily on his mind and he had naught to eat since his captors left his hands bound and he refused to eat like a whipped cur.

On the fifth day they turned onto the old forest road towards the Misty Mountains. Legolas wondered at the contradictions of this man. He was clearly not of Laketown and he knew the forest nearly as well as Legolas himself. He had claimed that he had a message for the king yet all he had sent was a lock of hair. Legolas grimaced inwardly as he tried to understand the man. He was half-sitting, half-kneeling on the ground were the men had driven a stake through the ropes that bound his hands leaving him picketed like a dangerous beast. Perhaps in their minds that is what I am he thought. His initial anger at most of the men had faded as he saw that they were cowed by Nareth. One or two of them had even shown him small kindnesses when their leader was elsewhere. He judged them weak and cowardly but most were not evil at heart, simply prejudiced and fearful.

He smiled as he thought of what Celdor would say if he knew his thoughts. He knew that the younger elf thought him too gentle and prone to forgiveness, but he saw life differently. Many of his people feared the outside world as these men feared the elves and though a kindly people cared for little outside their constant struggle against the evil in the forest and the small joys and celebrations that they loved so much and fought so hard to keep safe. Even his father kindly at most times especially with his children could be stern and unforgiving when angered. Legolas shared his father's spirit and when faced with evil was a stern and merciless foe, but for all his thousands of years he was still young and merry, seeing good where others did not. His gentleness and trust in others was bequeathed him by his gentle and beautiful mother who had long ago sailed for Valinor. From her he learned that even those who had done evil could still find goodness in themselves and change for the better. Thus he tended to forgive injury to himself easily, attempting to bring out the good in others, especially men whose lives were so short and who had so little time to learn to control their faults compared to the endless days of the elves.

Nareth was an exception to this rule and he was revolted by the way the man had treated his elves and himself and now treated his own men. Moreover, he feared whatever evil the man had planned for his father and the air of purposeful malevolence that the man carried with him gave him a stern desire to see the man brought to justice. As though Nareth sensed what he was thinking of him he stepped close to where his golden-haired captive was pinned to the ground. Legolas turned sensing his presence and looked his captor in the eye. Nareth was half-angered and half-pleased with the defiance the prince had shown. Part of him was angered that the elf cared so little about the merciless treatment he had been accorded, that in spite of having eaten nothing for days and tied to a stake his captive looked kinglier and more noble then many who were free and ruled broad lands. His other half was pleased, hoping that he would be the one to shatter that proud spirit and break the prince.

He leaned down absently kicking Legolas in the ribs.

"Well princeling" he snarled "Are our accommodations upsetting you? Is our food not to your taste?" The prince simply looked him in the eye, an unreadable expression on his face making Nareth look away quickly. He fiddled with his whip bringing it lightly across the prince's face hoping to see some sign of fear but not daring to look into those calm grey-green eyes. He raised the whip as though planning another beating but stopped when one of his men came running towards him.

"Please sir" called the man "the scouts you sent to the village have returned. The men await your instructions." Legolas frowned wondering what ill fate this man planned for the village. Nareth turned abruptly, brought the whip down hard across his unprotected chest and then stalked away towards the gathering band of men.

* * *

Some leagues away the men of a small village were preparing to track down a band of orcs that had attacked their village. They left half the men in the village to guard the women and children, hoping that it would be enough to defend them against any surprise attack. The men were dark-haired with grey eyes, their bearing noble and proud. The women were likewise fair of face with dark hair and a graceful bearing for these were no mere foresters or herdsmen but the Dunedain of the North. They had fled Eriador but a short time before and hoped to live in temporary peace until the lands in the north were safe again for women and children to dwell in. The leader Aralad had a nobility of bearing even for a Dunedain as he bid farewell to his wife and small son praying the Valar to watch over them until his return. Then he turned purposefully and leaping into his saddle led the men along the orc path.

Nareth smiled as he watched the men leave, there were about thirty men remaining in the village and though they were Dunedain and skilled in warfare he had four times their numbers. Softly the outlaws circled around the camp, hemming in the unsuspecting rangers. Legolas had been gagged and bound to a tree to prevent him from giving a warning to the Dunedain. He groaned inwardly as he wrestled with his bonds. He stopped his attempts as the bandit drew near.  
"Watch well little prince" he chuckled "you asked what my message to your father was? Behold the answer to your question. The choice will be your father's once he receives my message, he either lets you die in agony or we kill the villagers that we will capture. If he chooses you he shows all men what elves truly are, arrogant and selfish creatures who believe themselves to be above men, if chooses them then he condemns his only son and heir to a painful death and his own people will see him as a monster."

Legolas shuddered inwardly at the anguished image of his father's face, forced to make such a choice. Thranduil was strong and he would not despair but being forced to condemn his beloved son to death in such a way would make his days bitter and long, waiting for the day when he could lay down his kingship and sail into the West and rejoin him. He wondered what the elves and his father in particular could have done to gain such hate. Probably nothing he thought except exist as elves. He looked coldly into Nareth's dark eyes showing none of the inner turmoil he was feeling.

"You are arrogant and cruel Nareth" he said his voice cold enough to quell Orodruin in its most fiery explosion "what have my people done to deserve such hate? It is you who are the monster, killing and abducting innocent men and their families to exact revenge and satisfy your hate. You would kill your own kind to torment my father! You say that elves are cruel but you think nothing of causing anguish to a father through his son." Nareth snarled at the words but Legolas was far from finished "You know as well as I what my father's choice will have to be, so spare the villagers the trouble of being taken hostage. I would not buy my life by the deaths of innocent men and neither will my father. If you wish to kill me than have done with it but spare those who have never done you wrong." Legolas had spoken softly and deliberately vainly hoping that the man would listen. He, in spite of some of the stories told about him as not immune to pain or in love with danger, he was simply better at controlling his fears than most. He was sure that his end would not be easy if Nareth had a say in it, but he spoke truly when he said that he and his father would never let men die for him. He would rather die in torment than know that the already short life of men had been taken so that he might live.


	4. Chapter 4 - Scion of Elendil

Chapter 4 – Scion of Elendil

Nareth merely smiled unpleasantly and turned away. Several hours passed, filled with the restless waiting of the men and frantic efforts by the elf to slip form his bounds. He raised his hand to signal his men to attack at the moment that the last strands of the rope that had bound Legolas parted leaving him free, he swooped down on his guard and retrieved his sword. Then speeding lightly through the tree he entered the clearing calling a warning to the men of the village and then turned to fight as the first of Nareth's men entered. The bandit leader fumed, the element of surprise was gone thanks to the elf, and now in addition to the dunadain that were rushing forward he had to recapture an elf who was fighting not only for himself, but for his father and for the innocents he was unwillingly endangering. It was a much longer fight then he had reckoned on and he lost more men then he had planned, near twenty falling at the hands of the outraged elf. He was beginning to doubt his entire plan when one of his men dragged a small child towards him. He smiled and holding the child so that the combatants could see held his knife to the child's throat.

"Drop your weapons or the child dies" he called. The few remaining men froze looking towards the boy. When they saw what had happened the weapons fell from their hands.

Legolas felt a small catch in his throat as he dropped the sword. His father was going to have to condemn him to death, there would be no escape for him after this. Nareth would have only to threaten the child and he would have to comply for they both knew they he would not risk the child. Nareth, however, seemed not to recognize the tool fate had placed in his hand. In a blur, he saw the bandit throw the child to the ground and then bring up his knife. Legolas ran forward even as the knife fell, catching the man's wrist he turned the knife aside but though his action saved the child he was not quick enough to stop the knife altogether.

Legolas felt it brush his shoulder as it dug into the ground and then Nareth was on top of him kicking wildly at his chest and back. He managed to cover most of the child with his body but a few of the kicks impacted with the boy making him whimper in pain. By the time he was finished Legolas felt like an oliphant's doormat, his thoughts hazily wondering what had made him think of such an atrocious metaphor. Nareth was furious as he rained blows on the two prone figures indiscriminately. Slowly he remembered that he wanted the elf alive and it occurred to him the child was just the leverage he needed to bring the dunedain and the prince to obey him. Regretfully he gave Legolas one last kick dislocating his left shoulder and then dragged him to his feet.

The child's mother rushed to pick him up looking up gratefully at the half-unconscious elf when she saw that her child had been spared most of the blows. Arador looked up when he saw his mother smiling at him and buried his face in her soft hair. She left quickly as the rest of the dunedain stripped of their weapons and rendered helpless by their bonds stared horrified as Nareth threw Legolas to the ground and brought his whip down on his dislocated shoulder. A small gasp from the elf was all the response he got and he brought it down with as much force as he could muster. This time the elf was ready and he made no sound. Nareth swung the whip up again but one of the dunedain stepped forward.

"You are killing him" he said "elves are stronger than men but if you continue beating him he will not last the night." Nareth stopped himself and smiled grimly ordering the interfering dunedain to see to it that the elf recovered.

The dunedain picked up the elf as carefully as he could with bound hands and laid him near the fire marveling at his lightness. He was astonished when the elf sat up slowly and painfully looking around at the dunedain surrounding him.

"I am sorry" he said sadly "I was not able to warn you sooner." One of the dunedain stepped forward "Your highness" he said bowing "do not blame yourself, you did all you could, you warned us, fought with us and protected one of our children, we are indebted to you for your aid." Legolas gave him a piercing glance "You know who I am?" he asked his voice soft and rough from the pain. The ranger nodded "My name is Barad, I sought aid of your father some years ago when we were being overwhelmed by orcs, you persuaded him to answer our request and were among those who rode to our aid in the company of Elrond's sons." Legolas nodded "Forgive me for not remembering" he said "my mind unusually slow at the moment." his face grew grim "However, you must know that it is on my account that you were attacked and captured and for that even more do I beg your pardon." Swiftly he recounted what Nareth had told him. "I am sorry you were brought into this" he ended regretfully "but unless Nareth breaks his word you should be safe, my father and I will not let your people perish, nor the hope of men die out." he added softly "I know that Aralad is your chieftain. Is his family safe"

Barad looked at him for a long moment and whistled softly "My lord" he said "the boy that you saved was Arador his only son; often has it been said that the elves were friends of our fathers of old and often have we received your aid, thank you yet again for saving the boy, but we cannot let you die for us. You are also the heir to a throne."

Legolas looked at him incredulously for a moment and then at the others shocked to see that they agreed, but then he should have expected no less of the dunedain. "No" he said firmly "if I die it is not for you or your families glad though I would be do so if necessary. Nareth is choosing to kill me because of who and what I am and I will allow none to take my place. Remember Nareth would also kill your wives and childen." As they were speaking they had quickly bound up his wounds with what skill they had. Barad looked concerned as he stared down at the battered body of the elven prince.

"How long have you been in their hands?" he asked

"Near six days I believe" came the response

"Have you eaten"

"Barad, I know from the look on your face that you are trying to distract me" a flicker of amusement crossed his face as he looked up at Barad's grim one. "do it my friend" he said gently "I am a soldier of the Greenwood and have been for years uncounted, I have had my shoulder dislocated before this." Barad reached down and braced himself, there was a horrid sound as the joint slide into place and Barad stepped away his face whiter than the prince's. Legolas smiled and looked up _"Hannon le, Barad o Dunedain."_

The sound of Nareth's angry voice reminded them of the painful fact that they were at the mercy of a madman who cared not for who many lives were lost in his insane scramble for revenge. The outlaw glared at the silent group as he reached the fire.  
"Will he live?" he asked curtly.

"He will live, no thanks to you." snarled one of the men who had not spoken earlier. Nareth surprisingly ignored the man's blatant defiance.

"Where is the child?" The dunedain looked uneasily at each other. Finally Barad broke the silence "He is with his mother, who is tending his injuries" his voice rough with suppressed anger.

"Very well, bring him here" he looked dangerously at the silent men. "You and your families will go with my men, the boy and my tame elf will remain here. No do not protest" he added "If you refuse both their lives will be forfeit"

Arador lay silently on the ground where he had been tossed ungently by the outlaws. Near him he could see the pale face of the golden elf laying bound and in pain near the fire. The boy's eyes filled with bright, unshed tears as he watched his mother, friends and people being slowly led away. He was small and alone and surrounded by men who he knew would not hesitate to hurt him. He looked away quickly from the horrid sight of the elf's torn back and blinked back his tears. He would not cry he decided, he was a dunedain and the son of Aralad and he would not cry in front of his enemies.

The boy shifted uneasily as he felt eyes watching him carefully, appraising him. He turned and found himself looking into bright and ageless grey eyes. The golden-haired elf had seated himself near a tree and was looking at him gently taking note of his injuries and his unhappiness.  
"Come here, little one." he said softly his voice low and musical even for an elf. Arador looked at him for a moment and then scrambled to his feet. Quietly he walked over to where the elf was sitting.

"Let me see your hands _penneth" _Arador held out his bound hands, instinctively trusting this elf who he remembered protecting him from the outlaws. Legolas groaned when he saw how tight the bounds were on the little one's hands. He took them in his own and worked his long, slender fingers into them doing what he could to loosen them. Arador simply looked silently at him, his serious grey eyes meeting the elf's fearlessly. Legolas felt anger rising in him as he looked at this little scion of the house of Elendil, lost and alone among enemies still standing bravely and uncertainly before the only person in the camp who would show him kindness. Legolas winced, he had always been fond of elflings and the occasional human child that he had encountered, but this boy perhaps of perhaps four or five years roused in him an unusually fierce desire to protect and shield him from harm. He swore to himself that with the help of Elbereth he _would_ protect him regardless of the consequences.

He looked back at those young grey eyes and smiled, holding up his bound arms he helped the boy slip under them holding him firmly against his aching chest. Then he leaned his back against the tree. Ardor sat happily within the warm embrace of the gentle arms feeling suddenly safe as when his father had held in the comfort of his home. Now that the tension and fear was gone, his hold on himself slipped, silent tears trickling down his face. Legolas looked down worried "Where are you hurt little one" he questioned gently "forgive me for not protecting you better." The boy shook his head "I am not hurt" he protested stubbornly "well not much" he amended looking at the smile twitching at the corners of Legolas' mouth. An answering smile began to break through his tears. "You are an elf" he whispered. Legolas' smile widened "Yes, _penneth_. I am an elf."

"Can you sing?"

"Yes"

"Do all elves have hair like yours?" asked the child his small fist entwined in the elf's loosened hair as it lay glimmering faintly in the light of the stars.

"No, most elves have dark hair, very few have light-colored hair." Legolas looked down at the small face huddled against his shoulder, blinking vainly against his sleepiness, and began to sing.

Soft and faint were the words of that song, but beautiful and powerful as the captive prince brought all his will and power into protecting the young innocence of the child from the sights he should not have seen. He sang of the beauty of Arda and joy of all that was living, the flowers and grasses and the green leaves of the once beautiful forest that he called home. Of the stars, their clear flames kindled by Varda long ago, of the Gil-Estel, the hope star that was linked to the fate of the child sleeping in his arms. Around him the darkness receded before the purity and love that he poured into that song and the light of the stars brightened and glanced around his slender form enhancing the dim glow that already surrounded him. And for the first time since he was captured, Legolas felt free. Whatever bounds these men put on him, they could not bind his spirit and thus bringing hope to the child he found hope for himself.

Legolas jerked awake, berating himself for letting down his guard in sleep. He knew that he was exhausted and that the rest would do him good but he hated to think what could have befallen his little charge while he was resting. As he looked around in the pale dawn he saw that he need not of worried, the outlaws had moved as far as possible from the gently glowing elf and his soft singing. Obviously they were not a little afraid of him even bound and weakened as though he could bring some strange "elf magic" to bear on them. Legolas smiled, they need not have worried for elves though gifted with many abilities did not dabble in magic or sorcery and what gifts they had were used sparingly and with caution in great need.


	5. Chapter 5 - The King's Choice

Chapter 5 – The King's Choice

Thranduil paced feverishly in his study away from the prying eyes of his subjects. He was slightly ashamed to admit how nervous and impatient he had been these last weeks. He could not remember having been so worried within the last few centuries. True he worried for his son as any parent would especially as his son was the prince and leader of Mirkwood's archers thus not only fighting their bitter enemy but riding in the forefront responsible for every immortal life under his command. Thranduil suppressed a sigh, it was unfair and unjust that his son who had fought and been wounded in battle more times than he could count (even if he wished to, which he most decidedly did not) should have been captured so near the palace on a _training_ expedition of all things.

He had not had the heart to blame the trainees when they had returned, they were already shouldering far more guilt than they deserved. They were on a training mission he reminded himself fiercely, they were not experienced, it was not their fault. But Celdor and Elgalen, they should have known better, Legolas should have known better. Thranduil quickly halted this train of thought, Celdor and Elgalen would have died to save their beloved prince if it would have done any good, they were not to blame. How could they have known that those they had offered aid and healing would betray them holding daggers at their throats. And according to Elgalen and Celdor's story, Celdor _had_ tried. Thranduil tried not to grind his teeth as he remembered the story they had told.

_The palace gates swung open to reveal the group of trainees riding slowly and mournfully. Celdor looked horrible Thranduil decided, his eyes were lost and mournful while the dark bruise across his pale face bore an uncanny resemblance to a hand print_. _The rest looked little better, when they saw the king standing in the gateway a few looked as close to fainting as an adult elf could get. Thranduil's eyes, grey-green like his son's were dark with worry as he looked anxiously for a glimpse of his son. Nowhere could he see a flicker of gold among the dark- haired warriors. It was unlike Legolas to let his officers go first, especially when something ill had happened he always rode first ready to take any blame for the mishap. _

_Legolas would be first unless he was unconscious or, Thranduil shivered slightly, surely he was not dead. He turned pained eyes on Celdor who was holding out his hand. Something glinted in it, Thranduil's eyes widened in recognition, there were only two elves in Mirkwood with hair the color of golden rod under the summer sun and he was certainly not missing one of his braids.  
Legolas._

_"Celdor where is my son, where is Legolas?" he could not keep the worry from tinging his voice. Celdor shook his head sadly "Naethen, hir nin" he said "We have failed him and you." Thranduil took the limp braid into his hand, a small measure of hope returned when realized the braid was glowing faintly. "He is alive" he whispered. "Prince Legolas is alive my king but he has been captured." Celdor sighed wearily "I know not what they will do to him, only that we were told to bring you this as a token and a message."_

_"Were any of the others wounded or taken?" Thranduil was not respected and loved for nothing. Pained as he was by his own loss he still inquired after the welfare of his son's elves, he was not the only father in the woodland. _

_"Nay, aran nin, the prince gave himself up to save those under his command, no one else was injured."_

_"What of this mark on your face?" Thranduil asked gently. Celdor's face paled perceptively.  
"They…they were not gentle, he was bound and that hu ugaun, he was going to strike the prince…" "You tried to stop them?" Thranduil asked gently. (Cowardly Dog)_

_"It did more harm than good, I only made it worse, I was supposed to protect him, guard him with my life and they beat him, they beat him for my actions, he offered himself for me…" Celdor voice trailed into silence as he remembered. Thranduil's eyes narrowed dangerously "They beat my son? Celdor saes, I must know. Will he recover?" Thranduil could not find it in himself to fault his son for this, he would have done everything in his power to prevent harm from coming to those under his command and Legolas was very like his father._

Thranduil ceased pacing as he sensed someone outside the door. His face grew slightly less weary. "_Minna_, Erynel" he called as the door opened gently and a slender elf-maiden came quietly to where her father was standing. "You worry for him" she sighed. "_Gar-estel, ada_. The Valar will watch over him."

Thranduil sat slowly and drew his daughter into his arms his hands stroking her long dark hair.  
"Ada, he will be well, never has he failed to some back to us." she comforted him.  
"Aye, but these men, they are cruel and vengeful " Erynel's slender brows furrowed in confusion. "What is it ada, ai, you have not told me everything, ada, _saes_, what did they do to him?"

"Celdor attacked the leader to stop him from striking your brother."  
"And they punished Legolas? Ada how could they? What did they do to him? _Saes_!" horrible visions passed through Erynel's mind; Legolas helplessly bleeding on the forest floor, Legolas being taunted and beaten, Legolas dying…

"Legolas chose to take the punishment, _iell nin_; if Celdor was not consumed with worry I think he would angry with your brother for it." She winced as she thought of her strong and merry brother unable to aid his friend except by offering himself in his place.

"They beat him" she breathed. Thranduil gave a sad nod. "And the last ones weren't healed yet" she whispered under her breath. "What did you say?" Thranduil asked sharply "What are these "last ones"? What are you speaking of?" Erynel groaned, Legolas was going to kill her when he got back, _if_ he got back. "They were not gentle in Laketown either" she said softly "he didn't wish you to worry."

"No, he would not have." Thranduil held his youngest child tightly, thanking the Valar for granting such a gift in these dark times. "_Hannon le, iell nin_, it eases my heart that he will allow you to share the burdens he fears to share with me." _(Thank you my daughter)_

Father and daughter sat quietly near the fire long into the night, deep in thought and prayer. Dawn found them still clinging to each other finding the strength to continue on strong and impassive for their people as though their hearts were not bleeding for the one who was absent.

As the dawn rays of the sun touched the tips of the trees the king stirred as from a long sleep. As Erynel stood and planted a kiss on his weary brow a distant sound intruded itself on their consciousnesses.

"Ada, someone is approaching." Hope flared up in their hearts. "Could he have escaped?"

Thranduil sighed "I wish it were so, but more likely it is a messenger from one of the patrols."  
Elgalen looked distastefully on the man who stood before him. He had to concede that as the _edain_ went he was one of the finer specimens. His dark hair framed a noble face and there was no malice in his clear grey eyes. His face felt vaguely familiar.

"Quickly, take me to the king!"

"State your purpose, adan. No one sees the king without good reason." came the calm response.  
"There is no time, I bring a message concerning your prince."

Elgalen's face instantly changed from annoyed to deadly earnest, he clutched the messenger lifting him off his feet.

"What have you done with him, you miserable spawn of the evil one" he snarled. Barad kept his composure as well as someone who was being slowly strangled by an enraged wood elf could.  
"Release me" he gasped "I have done nothing to the prince, I am but a messenger and a representative of the Dunedain who have been seized like Prince Legolas."

Elgalen dropped him quickly and had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "Forgive me, lord, my temper carried me away, we have been anxiously awaiting news of the prince." Barad bowed "There is naught to forgive" he said quickly "I understand your worry all too well, for many of my kin are also in the hands of Nareth, but I have delayed over much, I must speak to the king."

"Tell me at least, is he alive and well?"

"He was alive, and as well as can be expected when I left" he returned slowly.

Thranduil and Erynel stood silently hand in hand as Barad entered the room. Thranduil smiled slightly in recognition. "_Mae govannen, Barad o Dunedain_." he said formally. "_Mae govannen, Aran o Eryn Galen_, I would that I brought more pleasant tidings." Thranduil and Erynel stiffened imperceptibly. "It would seem that we are ever fated to meet under the shadows of ill-tidings. A little over a week ago many of my kin were captured and are now held hostage by a man known as Nareth." Thranduil's eyes darkened slightly as Barad named the man who had taken and tortured his son. "He has made me the unwilling bearer of ill-news" he continued "I was bidden to give you these tokens and a letter." Barad reached into his pack and offered the king its contents. Erynel bit back a cry when she saw the bloodied braid and torn tunic. Slowly Thranduil opened the letter scanning it silently.

The king's face grew grim and a weight of years seemed to fall on him as he read the contents and understood the appalling choice he was faced with. Quickly he passed it to his daughter as a deadly silence fell like a shroud upon the room. Thranduil raised his head and looked piercingly at Barad his eyes fathomless and dark with suppressed pain and anger.

"You know the choice that this man has laid before me?" he asked quietly.

"I know what the prince was able to tell me." Barad returned gently.

"Then he knows what this man intends?" Erynel's voice was sad but firm, for she was not of the blood of Orophor and the daughter to the last Elvenking in Middle Earth as well as sister to greatest Sindarin warrior of that age for nothing.

"Aye, he knows of the choice…and what its consequences are. He has ever valued himself less than those weaker than himself."

"And as he has chosen so also must I, for I will not condemn your kin to death even for the sake of my only son. Your people will be set free."

"Then let me tell you that he wishes you to know that he accepts the death that faces him and that his only regret is the pain this will cause you. He sends his love to his _ada_ and _muinthel_. _Gar-estel!_" _(Father and sister)_

Barad bowed deeply and left the king and the princess. Thranduil turned to his daughter, holding her close. "We must ride swiftly, lest this coward kill them all and our sacrifice be in vain. Will you join me?" Erynel nodded slowly. "You are a daughter of kings, star of the forest but you will not want to see what Nareth will show us. Will you be strong for the sake of your brother?"

"Ada, he is giving everything to protect others, how can I do less then be there with him?"


	6. Chapter 6 - For the Love of a Brother

Just a few clarifications:

Arador is Aragorn's grandfather, as a descendant of Elendil he is of course a part of Eru's plan for the defeat of Sauron even though it is his grandson who takes part in the final battle. It seems that Aragorn's ancestors and their sacrifices and battles are often overlooked, I am setting out to remedy that.

* * *

Chapter 6 – For the Love of a Brother

Legolas sat silently leaning his head against the hard bark behind him. Nine days had passed since Barad had been sent to his father. At least he had been able to send his family a message, but he dreaded them coming and finding him bruised and bloody. He could only hope that Nareth would not torture him to death before his father's eyes. Even that hope seemed faint he reflected, that was just the sort of cruelty that would appeal to his captor. His one consolation was that Nareth was apparently unaware of how quickly elves in general and he in particular healed of wounds. His clothing and person was covered in blood and grime masking his closed wounds. If he could but guarantee the safety of the others he would be strong enough to break free.

He looked down at the boy sleeping in his arms. He had grown to love the child in the days that he had comforted and protected him. It seemed impossible that the hope of men rested on this gentle child that he would have given anything to return to his mother's arms. And yet evil is often defeated by that which is small and gentle. He and his elven warriors held the evil of Dol Guldor at bay at arrow tip and knife point but perhaps the fate of Arda would rest on one this small. The light sound of elven steeds broke in upon his musings and he returned to full awareness as Nareth loomed over him.

"Sounds as though your loving father is approaching, princeling." the man spat "are you ready to die?"

"I have been ready to die since the day I first took up arms in the fight to free my home of evil, and that was many lives of man ago." returned the prince holding Arador, carefully so as not to wake him.

Thranduil could see two camps, the one full of the captured Dunedain and in the other, in the other his keen eyes sought his son's golden hair, praying the Valar that he was still alive and at least mostly well. His eyes fell on a dusty golden head; the figure standing tall and erect was being pushed towards the king's company. Thus they met, the proud Elven king surrounded by the best archers in Mirkwood and the man who hated him to the point of madness.  
Nareth stood before the king with a boastful smile on his face that died quickly as he quailed under the king's piercing gaze.

The smile returned, however, as the bound figure was pushed forward with a kick that was meant to send him sprawling gracelessly to the ground. He righted himself quickly though and stood tall and golden in the dying sunlight a dark haired child held close to his chest. Thranduil took in his son's figure. He saw the bruises and whip marks, the bleeding wrists, the metal collar about his neck and chopped hair. But under everything he saw his son, his spirit untouched by the long weeks of captivity, a faint shimmer around his figure, fair even bleeding and dirty.  
"Legolas" he breathed and his son meet his gaze and held it, all else forgotten as they took comfort in the love and trust between them. Then Legolas broke the contact and turned towards his sister smiling gently. "_Why did you come?_" his voice asked in her head.

_"To be near you of course, muindor nin."_

_"I would rather you remember me as hale and happy, I do not wish you to see my body broken, please do not watch, muinthel nin."_

_"Would you be here, if our places were reversed?"_

_"Valar forbid such a thing, of course I would, but I am a warrior and accustomed to death and bloodshed and I would not see you become used to this evil for all of Arda."_

_"Legolas, I will never become used to battle or bloodshed but if this day must end your days I will be here with you, I would not miss the chance to say farewell for all of Arda."_

A blow to his ribs brought the prince from the exchange with his sister and a harsh voice grated in his ears.

"So Elvenking" it spat "which shall it be? Your son or the humans?" Thranduil drew a deep breath to steady his voice and answered firmly "I will not see others suffer and die even for the sake of my son, let the men go free." Nareth smiled and motioned the men to drag their prisoner back to the camp. Before they could touch him, he spun on his heel and placed the child in Erynel's arms. "Return him to his parents, Aralad is his father's name." he whispered softly and was gone.

Nareth was disappointed, he had expected more drama and amusement from this meeting. Instead the royal family had remained coldly aloof, perhaps he had been wrong in assume that the king loved his son. How could anyone be heartless enough to watch coldly as their child was tortured he wondered. Little did he know of the love that bound that family together, two watching silently determined to hide their pain for the sake of the other, witnessing what they would have given their lives to prevent to give the third the strength of their quiet presence. Nareth put his theory to the test lashing out unexpectedly, his hard fist colliding with the prince's stomach. He watched the king's face carefully, and he smiled insanely at what he saw. He _had_ underestimated the king, he was not coldhearted he _did_ love his son, he loved him enough to sit through this scene watching impassively to give the younger elf the strength of his presence. If he had not been so blinded by his bloodlust and hate he would have admired this family. Instead he chuckled, this was going to be fun he thought, more fun than he had dreamed.

Drearily, Legolas noticed that there guards around the other camp their crossbows aimed carefully should the elves even think of a rescue. Nareth was obviously rightly afraid of what the king might do if he lost his hostages. He tried to breathe calmly to quiet his racing heart. True he had found himself in decidedly bad situations, orcs, men and more orcs playing the principal villains, but though he found himself on the receiving end of many of Middle Earth's more inventive torturers he had never had a whole village held hostage against him and never had his father and sister been there to witness it. Well he thought, live and learn, Nareth at any rate was going to learn something about elven stubbornness; _never_ would he give that monster the satisfaction of seeing him broken. Yes, his body might give but he would be dead before his spirit did. And with that not very comforting thought he found himself bound in a disconcertingly familiar fashion.

It seemed that Nareth was rather unimaginative, well that was fine with him he decided rather lightheadedly, he had plenty of practice with whips considering that it was the orcs' favorite method of getting information. The smile on the unconscious subject of these thoughts would have vanished rather swiftly if he had been aware of them, but since he was not he continued to grin in what he thought was a murderous and doom-filled way and lazily ran his hands down a three-tongued whip. Erynel shivered when she saw that whip, and her admiration for her brother grew as she saw him look it over dispassionately. Her brother, so humble and merry around his friends seemed to have been replaced with a figure of stone, he had always had an air of nobility about him even disguised, but now he looked positively majestic. Cold grey eyes with a green fire in their hearts looked fearlessly at Nareth; his head was held high, his golden hair glowing in the sun looking every inch the warrior and elven prince that he was. He looked as the legendary Finrod must have looked before the throne of Sauron she decided, her thoughts turning to the elven hero she and her brother had admired so intensely. Or maybe as Glorfindel had gazed at the balrog before falling to his death. She quickly decided she didn't want to draw such parallels, heroes were wonderful to hear of in songs but she had no desire to see her brother join them in their rather unfortunate fates.

Legolas breathed slowly as he saw the whip descending on his unprotected back, stopping his body from flinching by sheer will power. Nareth was disgusted; the elf hadn't even quivered as his blow had fallen. He raised it again determined to get a reaction. Slowly and deliberately he dropped the blows hoping for some sign of fear, something to prove to him that _he_ was in control of this situation. His hope was doomed to early disappointment as the prince continued to look ahead seeming not to feel the lashes growing harder and faster as Nareth lost control and began to flail wildly. Erynel's face was wet with tears as she watched Nareth bringing the whip down on her brother's unprotected back. She shook with silent sobs as his body began to jerk from the force of the blows. Next to her Thranduil's eyes were dry but filled with blazing wrath.

Legolas' whole being seemed to be drowning in pain, his back was shredded and bleeding while the rest of his limbs ached fiercely where Nareth had hit them in passing. Carefully he struggled to push the pain down, schooling his face in a mask of pain-free carelessness. The blows grew weaker and finally stopped as Nareth dropped his aching arm in defeat. The prince turned his head to meet the worried eyes of his father and sister.

_"Are you alright?"_ they asked fearfully

_"If you mean do I feel like a nice little stroll through the greenwood, no I am not alright, if you mean will I live yes."_ he retorted resorting to sarcasm to hid his pain.

Nareth glared up at the elf before him. He had never met a creature who could so enrage and baffle him as the golden elf before him. He had given him a beating that should have left any normal being helpless on the ground and yet he was standing, pale and bleeding, a hint of pain in his ageless eyes but still calm and composed and standing above him. Perhaps he had underestimated the strength of the Firstborn. Nareth shook his head free of these disturbing thoughts; he _would_ find a way to crack that façade, he wanted to see this inhuman creature break, this was no longer about the Elvenking, this was a personal contest between him and the golden-haired elf standing before him, to bring him to his knees before his own rage and impotence destroyed the last shreds of his sanity.

He glanced about searching for something to accomplish his purpose, his eyes resting on the dying fire. He smiled. Legolas stiffened imperceptibly as he read the man's purpose, forcibly turning his mind from the pain and the dread he bent his thoughts on his sister.

_"Please, little sister" _he begged _"go now before…" _he stopped quickly_ "you have seen enough…"_

_"Legolas, what is it? Before what? What could possibly be worse than seeing you beaten before my eyes?"_

_"Do not ask, and I pray Elbereth that you never find out, please turn away while you can…"_ his thoughts trailed off as he saw her eyes widen in horror. Turning he saw that Nareth had found what he wanted, the outlaw was lifting a slender metal rod from among his packs. _So Nareth carried branding irons with him; a horse thief among other things_ he thought sarcastically, _why am I not surprised?_

Even the outlaws seemed daunted by this level of cruelty, as Nareth stoked the fire and laid the tip of the iron among the coals. The prince watched dully as the brand became red and then white in the heat of the fire. Nareth lifted the metal carefully and stalked towards him, the heat rolling off it in waves.

His mind snapped back to full awareness as he realized with dread that the outlaw was holding the iron over his cheek. His thoughts raced uncontrollably, _just give in, all he wants to see is you begging him for mercy _a small unbidden voice called. He fought it _I will not give in, I will ask for no mercy, I have dealt with this pain before. _The response was swift, _yes pain, but this pain? Has anyone ever held white-hot metal to your cheek? You will lose control anyways; just give in before the pain rather than after. _Quickly he shook the voice away _I will not bend before him, I will not lose control, I am Thranduilion, and Prince of the Woodland Realm, I will not break…_ The brand touched his cheek sending searing agony across his face. His skin scorched and trembled as his face shrank away from the cause of the pain. He held his eyes open with an effort, his lips bleeding as he struggled to keep from screaming. And still Nareth held the brand firmly against the soft skin, watching hopefully for a cry of agony that never came.

After an eternity the pain lessened slightly, as Nareth drew the brand roughly away from his face leaving the prince gasping for breath. Slowly and painfully he raised his head and looked his tormentor in the eye. Nareth stopped dead, he had been surprised that the elf had not screamed, but even so he had not looked for such defiance in one in so much pain. Oh, the eyes showed pain all right, but the amount of strength and light still in them made him pause. The quickened breathing had been a break in the calm mask but there was still no fear in those eyes. Pain he had seen and sorrow and pity yet again. He felt victory slipping from his grasp, he could kill this elf where he stood, but that would not satisfy him, he would still have lost in the struggle of their wills. Pity he thought angrily, his rage and hate took control and he whipped the iron around again burying it in the bleeding chest and held it.

Gone was his attention to his men and prisoners, he focused only on the bleeding elf before him. Legolas struggled slightly in the grasp of the ropes; he was breathing in ragged gasps but though his body was failing him he kept his eyes fixed on the man before him, stifling scream after scream as Nareth pressed the brand further and further. Dreamlike between the blinding veils of white fire he saw the guards falling and the brand falling from the outlaw's hand. There was a blur of gold and silver as his father turned on the miserable man in front of him. It pained him to realize that he was looking forward to seeing Nareth bleeding on the ground. Frantically he struggled to regain control, Nareth was evil and murderous and simply asking to be killed in some slow and very painful way but doing so would drag him down to the same level and he had no desire to be like Nareth. He shuddered at the thought of the murderous fury he had seen in the outlaw's eyes; he was not going to have that reflected his own.

His thoughts became aimless and flighty again and now that the immediate pain was removed he felt blackness beckoning him on to peaceful and painless unconsciousness. With the last of his waning strength he pulled his scattered thoughts together as Thranduil raised his sword, blind rage coursing through his veins as he looked down at this monster that had mercilessly beaten and humiliated his son, who had held a brand to the flesh of his child. Grimly he decided that he would receive no mercy. The sword dropped, a glimmer of deadly silver in the fading light…

"_Daro!_"

Thranduil whirled in disbelief at seeing the lined face of his son.

"Don't kill him _ada_. He is unarmed and helpless, to exact vengeance would be to become like him. _Saes_, let him be judged by his own people."

"He is a pitiless monster. He gave no mercy, why should he receive it?"

"He is merciless, but we I hope are not. If we cannot grant mercy, where does the difference between us lie? It is easy to grant mercy to those we love. Let him judged by his own and die if they judge so, but not by your hand or by mine." Slowly Thranduil lowered his sword and turned, ordering the archers to bind him.

Gently he cut the cords that bound his son and lowered him into his arms. Having seen his father relent, the prince could no longer hold out against the merciful blackness and his body went limp in his father's arms. For a long moment Thranduil looked into the scared face, framed by cropped and disheveled hair. He wondered what had happened to the innocent child who had known nothing of hatred and pain. He had been replaced with the hardened warrior he held, but looking on the maimed face of his child he could still see that innocence and light kept ever burning.


	7. Chapter 7 - Aid to the Fallen

Chapter 7 - Aid to the Fallen

Thranduil turned reluctantly from the body of his son to check on his elves and the freed dunedain. The second camp was a chaos of joyous greetings and overwhelming happiness. The group that Aralad had led on the trail of the orcs had returned at a most opportune moment.

While Nareth's attention had been riveted on Legolas they had quietly taken down the guards around the camp and freed the hostages, giving Thranduil the opportunity he had been praying for.

Aralad had his wife in a close embrace with their child between them. Thranduil turned away not wanting to intrude on their privacy but they turned and bowed before he could walk away.

Aralad took a step forward.

"King Thranduil" he said respectfully "I have just heard of the debt I owe your son, if there is anything that I can do for him…" he seemed to be searching for the right words "I heard that his…injuries are extensive. I am sure that my skill is nothing compared to that of the Eldar but what grace my hands possess is yours to command."

Thranduil's face which had grown grimmer as Aralad spoke softened slightly. "My thanks, Chieftain of the Dunedain. I would appreciate your skill. I fear that our intervention may have been too late for anything but to allow him to pass in peace." his voice was rough and halting "If your skill can aid him in any way you have my eternal gratitude."

Aralad bowed his head and left to retrieve his pack. Silimë, his wife looked gratefully down at her son.

"I don't know how to thank you" she said at last "My son is safe and uninjured because the prince risked his life to save him. And his reward for that is horrible injuries and perhaps death. I can find no words to either thank or comfort you that it is not my son who is laying at Gates of Mandos."

Thranduil looked into her eyes for a long moment "You already have Lady Silimë" he said at last "If I can take any comfort in this, it is that my son's sacrifice was not in vain and that you at least shall see your child laugh and smile under the sun again."

The child in her arms stirred and smiled at the king. "Leg'las" he said "You are all better. The nasty men are gone now, will you sing to me?" And for all his prized self-control the Elvenking could not stop the shining drop that fell from his eye.

* * *

Thranduil and Erynel spent that night on their knees next to the limp body of the prince. He lay lifelessly on their cloaks while Aralad and Thranduil used every means in their possession to bring the prince back to the waking world. Erynel knelt beside her father praying with all her heart that her brother would return to them. It was to no avail, the prince's battered body had finally had enough; weeks of sleeplessness and thirst coupled with the frequent beatings and the final vicious abuse they had witnessed had overcome even his elven strength. He lay as though dead and still they would not give up hope.

The hours passed by, at once to slow and brutally fast as they watched. Erynel's eyes sparkled with unshed tears and even Thranduil seemed old and weary. Around them the fresh scent of athelas cleansed the air. It lay in fragrant drifts smelling of the green earth , of the unspoiled forests of Arda when the world was young and new-made, before ever shadow or evil touched it. It smelled of nights without fear, shining softly in the light of the elven stars when long ago the elves had first woken. Around them the trees swayed and the shadow fell away, as their leaves shone and danced in the sweet breeze and to those who could hear they lamented the fall of the prince in faint and saddened voices.

The night passed and the sky lightened slightly. A faint blush was in the east as the sun began its ascent. The first sun rays spilled over the horizon and the golden light lit upon the still form in Thranduil's arms. A faint glow shone on his cheeks and where there had been only chalky whiteness there was now a faint pink of health. The sun rose fully, suffusing the sky with a brilliant blue. The prince stirred slightly and his eyelids flickered. The king and the princess bent forward eagerly hoping that their eyes were not playing them tricks.

Slowly, the lids opened and tired grey eyes looked around confusedly.

"_Ada_?"

"Legolas, _ion nin_, thank the Valar!"

The cracked lips formed a faint smile and the wasted hand reached up.

"Arador?" he asked worriedly

Erynel smiled gently "He is well and safe with his family."

"Erynel?"

"I am here also _muindor nin_. Oh, Legolas we thought we had lost you. Never give me a scare like that again!"

There was a soft chuckle "I am not that easy to get rid of, _muinthel_. I will never stop fighting. I love you both too much to just slip away without saying farewell."

Thranduil hugged his son close as though he was an elfling again. "We will never let you say farewell, _ion nin_. Never!" The eyelids slipped back down again.

"I am sorry" he whispered "I am so tired" his lips twisted into another half-smile "I feel as though I could sleep for a yen!" (_144 years_)

* * *

He woke again that evening when Aralad had returned to his family. Thranduil and Erynel rushed over to where he lay the moment they saw him stir. They reached him just as he tried to sit up. Erynel smiled and sat next to him.

"Where are the Dunedain?" he asked

"They returned to their village" she said "I believe that you have made friends as well as enemies this time. They seem ready to obey your every whim, should you wish it."

"Not doubt because I do not wish it" he returned shortly "Where are the men who captured me, I wish to see them." He stood on surprisingly steady feet.

"They are not worth your time _ion nin_" said his father "Save your strength for better purposes"  
Legolas smiled "They were not all wicked _adar_. Some were kind to me when Nareth was away. Perhaps with help they can change, men are not as set in their ways as elves."

"Fickle as chaff before the wind" said Thranduil grimly

"But, vibrant and passionate as flame in a hayfield, their lives are short but they live them with an abandon that elves cannot."

They reached the clump of trees where the prisoners with the exception of Nareth were being kept. Of the score and a half who had survived the fight with the Dunedain and the wrath of the elves most were young and had been cowed into obedience to the bandit. Legolas looked them over thankfully. All those who had been exceptionally cruel to him had fallen and were now facing the judgment of the Valar; he had not been looking forward to dealing with them, for he could not set them free in good conscience and what could he do with two score murderers save execute them?

If he felt rather pleased the erstwhile bandits most certainly did not. Most of them were glad that the prince had survived, of all those they had captured he had held out hope of redemption and his defiance to Nareth had had most of them cheering under their breath and out of earshot of their leader. However, having him alive and having him and his terrifying father walking among them no doubt planning their demise were two very different things. If the fire in the prince's eyes when Nareth had attacked Arador had terrified them, the blazing bonfire raging in the king's was scaring them half-senseless.

They were pleasantly surprised when they were addressed in a decidedly pleasant tone of voice. The prince went through the lot of them asking questions about their earlier lives and the circumstances that had driven them to Nareth's command. Legolas was pleased to find that he had been right. Most of the outlaws had committed or been accused of some petty crime for which they had been outlawed and turned into scavengers and jackals.

When he offered them the chance to work their punishment out under the watchful eyes of the elves he was meet with a rousing chorus of "Ayes". They would work out the remainder of the year and provided that they behaved would earn enough to return to their villages and towns freemen.

His feet were becoming unsteady by the time Thranduil and he had worked out the details to everyone's satisfaction.

* * *

"And now we must deal with the head, the body being properly disposed of" sighed the king. Legolas steadied himself hurriedly as Erynel met them. She gave him glare that plainly said _you dear brother are going nowhere without my help._ He smiled ruthfully and leant slightly on her. "_Naneth_..." he accused. _(mother)_

She merely smiled in a most provoking manner.

When they finally reached the huge beech that the outlaw had been bound to the two were laughing merrily and were taking turns at reminding the king of every embarrassing episode in the other's admittedly long life. Legolas was just finishing an amusing story of very tiny princess and her less-then-tidy adventures upon a long muddy slope behind the palace as they reached the tree. They stopped abruptly.

Where there should have been a securely bound prisoner and an alert guard, there was a limp figure in the dirt and a very free and smirking bandit. Erynel slipped behind her brother and disappeared behind among the trees. Nareth grinned infuriatingly at his captors and edged a long knife towards the throat of the unconscious guard.

"Not a sound from either of you" he commanded leering at the prince "I didn't expect to see _you_ up for a long while yet. Well, no matter, it is better this way. Step forward, princeling."

Thranduil glared dragon-fire at him. Legolas stepped towards him swaying a little without support. Nareth motioned him forward again. It seemed an age before Nareth had them where he wanted them. He swung around intent on burying the knife in the prince's heart. As he swung to the side Legolas threw himself to the ground and the arrow aimed for the bandit's shoulder buried itself in his heart.

Everything was very still for a moment.

Then Nareth collapsed on the ground as Erynel swung herself down from the tree and looked with disgust at her arrow in his chest.

* * *

Still short alas...but then again I had a full day...

For those reading _For the Sake of the Ringbearer_...what kind of cruel monster do you think I am? I would _never_ kill a canon character like Faramir without labeling it "Tragedy". So guess again. So far no one surprisingly has figured out what is going on.

Are you guys/girls getting the references to the Silmarillion? It just occurred to me that I have been throwing them around my stories and I don't know if most people know as well as I do.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I think I needed to write some fluff myself...I have been awfully action/pain heavy lately.

Shire Rose


	8. Chapter 8 - The Prince Returns

Chapter 8 – The Prince Returns

King, prince and princess looked silently at the still figure upon the ground. Erynel was slightly shaken for she had aimed to wound not to kill, however much the man may have deserved it. Legolas wrapped his less injured arm around her, holding her close.

At last Thranduil looked up, smiling when he saw his children together.

"It seems that the Valar have ordained his punishment after all, thank you_ iell nin_."

Legolas twisted to face her, kissing her forehead "_Hannon le, muinthel_. My life is truly in the palm of your hand."

Erynel smiled back "You are welcome, with all my heart _muindor_. How could I do less with your life at stake?"

He grinned slightly "Well, I _may_ have been able to deal with him myself. Perhaps it was just my arm at stake…"

Erynel slapped his cheek playfully and Thranduil gave them both what was meant to be a stern glare but was actually more of a fond smile. He had not doubted that Legolas would be able to put his ill-treatment in the past as he had before but it was still good to see him smiling and teasing his sister again. He did not think he would ever forget those long hours during which his Greenleaf had lain so pale and still.

Quickly he thrust these thoughts aside as his eyes feel on the figure of the fallen guard. He ran forward to where the young elf lay sprawled in the dust. Swiftly he checked him over for serious injuries and was relieved to find that he had only been knocked out. Nareth had been so intent upon capturing Legolas that he apparently paid little heed to other elves.

He laid one of his powerful hands upon the guards forehead and called his name

"Edlaint, Edlaint, come back to us _penneth._" The guard stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

Erynel and Legolas had joined the king over his body. Erynel sat next to her father and brother "Edlaint" she called "_Saes, _awake my friend"

Edlaint's eyes snapped open at the princess' call and he tried to sit up. Legolas held out an arm and gently supported him against a tree trunk .

"Nareth?" he asked glancing around wildly.

"You are safe" said the king soothingly "He will trouble us no more. Do you remember how he came to be loose?"

Edlaint shook his head groggily "He must have been free before I took over guarding him" he said sadly "When I leant over to check his bounds he struck me, he must have been armed as well. I am sorry _Aran nin, _my carelessness could have cost your life or that of the princess. I willingly accept whatever punishment you chose to meet out."

Thranduil looked at Legolas and back at the guard "I am your king, but the prince is the commander of the archers, your punishment will be determined by Legolas, as your commanding officer."

Legolas shook his head, "There will be no punishment, for I cannot see that you did anything wrong. You took every precaution, it is not your fault that someone had slipped him a knife and undid his bounds."

Edlaint looked at the prince amazed. "Thank you, your highness" he said softly. Legolas gave him a sharp look, "There is no need to thank me, I merely gave you your just due. It would be wrong to punish one who was not at fault, surely you did not think me capable of such hypocrisy?"

Edlaint looked horrified, "No, of course not your highness. But not all might believe my story so readily, thank you for trusting me."

"I trust all until they forfeit that trust, I would ask of you no more than more than I can give myself." he said simply.

The journey back took longer than any wished it too, but Legolas had not fully healed and the others were reluctant to have him push himself too far. There were no more untoward incidents but they still could not determine who had aided Nareth in his abortive attempt. The days were not only long but uneasy with an unknown enemy in their midst.

On the fourteenth day since the death of Nareth the great gates were in sight of the royal party. Great was the uproar in the palace when the king and princess came into sight with Legolas riding beside them, for all had heard of the choice that the king had been given and few had held any hope that the prince would ever ride among them again.

As they reached the gates a small party of archers ran forward surrounding the prince entirely as the members of the ill-fated training expedition determined for themselves that their beloved captain was safe and unharmed.

Safe they found him and alive, but unharmed he was not. The bruises and whip marks had faded during the days that had passed and the burn above his heart could not be seen, but the mark upon his face lay red and angry upon the flawless white of his face, a terrible reminder of Nareth's cruelty.

The archer's faces hardened in anger as they saw that mark and Elgalen and Celdor strode furiously towards their friend.

"Where is the foul beast that dared do such a thing?" asked Celdor, his face pale with rage. Legolas looked at him calmly.

"He is dead."

Elgalen looked between his friends, "It is well" he said heavily, "For were he not, we would be hard pressed to control our anger."

It was many weeks before that mark faded even slightly and for years afterward the prince bore a red print upon his face.

The weeks passed into months and summer followed spring to be replaced by autumn, and still no sign of Nareth's helper came to light. The men who had been spared worked willingly enough and many had actually become friendly with the elves as they worked about the palace.

Winter passed and the days were again lengthening when Legolas again heard from the Dunadain.

Aralad rode up to the gates one day as the first green showed on the bare branches of the trees. He was tired and dusty from the swiftness of his pace. The lack of sleep and haste overcame him as the gates were opened and he slide from his horse in an ungraceful heap.

Gently, they laid him to sleep in a fair room while they waited for him to recover enough to tell his tidings.

Legolas stood silently, wondering what ill-tidings had driven him to such haste when Aralad awoke. His body still lay exhausted and worn but his errand could not wait. Legolas stepped forward as the man's eyes opened.

"Aralad?" he asked gently, "What are your tidings?"

The dunedain's face blanched as he remembered.

"Arador, my son, has been taken by orcs."

Legolas went white.

"We lost their trail, our searches have been in vain. I know that you have given much to protect him before this, please aid us once again, for his sake and for the people of Gondor; that the line of kings might not perish from the earth."

"I swore to myself that I would see that the boy came to no harm and to that I still hold. The word of an elf does not change with the passing of a few seasons." responded the prince. "Where was he taken?"

"A league beyond the village, we fear they were heading south." Legolas spun to leave, "I will do my utmost to find and save your son." he swore as he passed out.

Thranduil was not happy. He understood and supported his son in his decision. But he could not forget how close his child had been to leaving him forever and he prayed that he would return unharmed.

The prince set out within the hour, after bidding father and sister a tender farewell. With him rode Elgalen and Celdor for they refused to remain behind as the prince rode into danger and he was glad to have companions willing to brave even the darkness of Dol Guldor, for he would constrain none to follow him wither they were bound.

Swiftly they rode and without stop or break save to rest their horses. So great was the speed of their passing that they reached the village of the Dunedain as the sun set upon the fourth day. But needful as haste was, they were forced to rest the night for mortal eyes could not pierce the darkness and mortal eyes they needed to show them the place where the boy had been taken.

They set off at first light. The mists still lay thick about upon the ground as they reached the spot. Heavy footprints lay scattered upon the ground where the orcs had trampled the lifeless grass. Lightly the elves read what they could from the tracks.

It was as they had feared leagues away from the clearing the tracks turned towards the south. So cleverly had the tracks been hidden, only the keen eyes of the elves could follow them. They sent the rangers back to guard the village for the elves could move silently and with greater speed alone.

The three stopped as the orc tracks turned towards Dol Guldor, for here the most disconcerting piece of the puzzle lay before their eyes.

The orcs had made use of a number of tricks that the elven archers had developed.

Their own kin had betrayed them.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait, but believe me that was only the beginning...the real fun is about to begin. Enter the Grey Wizard.

To Reviewers:

Pip the Dark Lord of All: HAAA...more cliffie. By the way, is that Pirate Spock on your profile pic?

Just A Reviewer: Thanks as always, the third installment of the Middle Earth Fairy Tales will focus on Erynel...special gift to a loyal reviewer.

By the way, everyone else, I am totally open to writing stories about specific characters (either canon or OC) on request.

Shire Rose


End file.
